Every Ridge, Every Plane
by CuginiSandwich
Summary: Oneshot. Post Hodgela break-up. This time, her work was not required because an otherwise unrecognizable victim needed a face. This time, she had simply fallen into a trance-like state so typical of an inspired artist.


A dreamy smile had taken up residence on the face of the Jeffersonian's resident forensic artist. The pencil in her hand moved seemingly of its own accord across her sketchpad.

This time, her work was not required because an otherwise unrecognizable victim needed a face. This time, she had simply fallen into a trance-like state so typical of an inspired artist.

As her pencil placed the finishing touches on its creation, Angela paused to inspect her handiwork. The sight before her caused a deep sigh to escape her lips. Her normally confident posture wilted a bit. As much as she would have liked to brush the subject of the work off as inconsequential, Angela knew better. Nevertheless, her gaze was fixed on the sketchpad.

It was a face. But not just any face. She knew this face better than her own. She knew every freckle, every scar, every ridge, every plane. This face had plagued her thoughts and haunted her dreams for far longer than she had thought possible. It was as if this face had been etched into her very soul, the center of her artistry.

Angela's hand was moving to rip this face from her sketchpad when she was startled by a knock on her partially open office door. She jerked her hand away from the sketchpad as if it had burned her.

"Whoa, easy there, Ange! I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that."

Angela's eyes flicked up at the speaker's voice. Brown eyes collided with blue ones.

Angela let out a nervous laugh. "It's alright, Jack. I just happen to be extra jumpy tonight. All these back-to-back cases are starting to get to me, I think." The statement was partly true. The team at the Jeffersonian had, in fact, solved numerous cases in the past month. But the whole truth was not something Angela cared to share.

Hodgins seemed to accept her response and nodded his agreement. An awkward moment of silence hung between them before Hodgin's eyes alighted on the sketchpad in Angela's lap. "What are you working on this late at night?" he inquired teasingly.

Angela hurriedly snatched up the sketchpad and stuffed it into the oversized purse at her feet. "Oh, it's nothing worth seeing," she countered. She searched her thoughts frantically for a way to divert his attention. "Is it really that late?" she asked innocently.

"I would say so. It's nearly 2:00am. I'm surprised you're still here. Usually you make it a point to be out of the lab at the earliest possible moment," he replied with a broad smile.

Angela could not help but smile back. That smile of his always put her at ease. "I hadn't noticed the time. I suppose I should head home now. Wouldn't want to ruin my reputation!" she joked as she rose from her seated position.

Hodgins chuckled in amusement. "That's actually the reason I dropped by. I saw that you were still here and wanted to stop in and see if everything was okay." Angela nodded and smiled. "Well, since you're ready to go right now, why don't you let me walk you to your car?"

Angela sighed quietly before protesting. "That's not necessary, Jack. I'll be totally fi—"

"Please, Ange," he interrupted. "Just let me do this. I know you are a beautiful, intelligent, self-sufficient woman. But I know from experience how dangerous parking garages can be," he pleaded.

The Gravedigger. They were both thinking it.

"Alright Jack," Angela answered softly as she slung her purse over her shoulder and started toward the door. "Just don't forget about me being a 'beautiful, intelligent, self-sufficient woman' Because if you do…." she trailed off, smiling.

"I know, I know—I'll be in some serious trouble," Hodgins finished as he held up his hands in surrender.

As Angela had hoped, the mood between her and Hodgins had lightened considerably after her jest. There was no sense in dwelling on the past, especially a part of the past that still haunted them both.

The pair made their way to the parking garage in comfortable silence. Neither wanted to unintentionally flip the switch that would turn the easy going situation into an awkward one. The flip had been switched enough times in the past few weeks.

When the two reached Angela's car, they said their good nights and went their separate ways to their separate homes.

As Angela made her way to her bedroom, her thoughts returned to the sketchpad in her purse. She had intended to destroy it at the earliest opportunity, but something stopped her now. Instead, she sat on her queen-sized bed and withdrew the sketchpad. She once again fixed her eyes upon the face she had recreated.

With one hand, Angela reverently traced every freckle, every scar, every ridge, and every plane contained there.

This wasn't just a face she knew. It was a face she loved.


End file.
